Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Luskonios

as written by Knosis

The church had just begun to congress into the chapel, the people moving slowly as they greeted and smiled along the way in. The Father smiled and waved as the richly dressed crowd moved passed him into the double doors of the pristine church. The bells tolled loudly to announce that the early morning sermon was about to begin. The sun hadn't even risen yet, and the brisk morning air was enough to move the older bodies along a bit quicker.

The father was looking out to make sure none of the flock had gone astray, when he noticed a dark figure on the ground. Concern shot on his face as he raced across the yard to see what it could have been.

Inside, people chatted and laughed, coffees in most of their hands to be able to stay awake this early in the morning. The normal crowd of roughly 30 people had shown up for the earliest service the church offered, and they knew each other well enough that they hadn't noticed the father's absence. The pianoist waited and watched, looking for the sign that the father had returned so that she could play the seating music as she did every sermon. It was then, she noticed the shadowy figure emerging from the outside and smiled. She figured it was the father, and so went ahead and began to play. Everyone started moving to their seats cheerily.

The man's boots couldn't be heard over the piano or the tolling of the bell. Nor was the thud noticed at first as the father's body landed lifeless on the ground in the end of the isle. Or the doors slamming shut. Time seemed to stand still as the dark figure grabbed hold of the first woman he could lay hands on and tore into her throat. Shocked, she fought only a second or two before she couldn't find the strength anymore. The bells continued to toll, but by this point the pianoist had noticed the dark figure and had stopped playing, gawking at the odd scene of this man kissing a random woman. The woman dropped to the floor, limp and the vampire stumbled backwards slightly, looking at his hands.

All was silent for a moment as the reality of what was happening was slowly coming to realization. The vampire looked up at the statue portraying their god, his eyes glowing bright gold. "So. This is what my purpose is..?" He asked the sightless eyes. "Then I will be your angel of Death."

He grabbed another man and ripped his throat and began to drain swiftly. People began to panick now. Screams rose and people clambered over each other trying to find an exit.

Within a short time, half the people had been murdered. Most of the bodies were drained, but the later ones were just ripped apart. Some of them were barely recognizable anymore. Blood decorated the walls and the pews. Alek's figure had changed. His muscles had filled out once again, and he looked as healthy as he had ever been. He stood over his last kill, digging his dagger into the belly flesh and carving a symbol into the man. He grinned and slowly stood. "Time to find my angel.." He turned to mist and fled the building.
 
as written by Script and Tiko

Raindrops splashed noisily against Aurelion's helmet as he raced through the streets astride his destrier, the bulky vehicle's engine roaring over the otherwise quiet autumn morning. As the church came into view ahead, he hit the brakes, and with a spray of water the bike came skidding to a halt outside.

He'd been on his way from the Monastery to the Auraella when the call went out - a single figure attacking a church in Luskonios, panicked phonecalls from those that had managed to flee the building. There was a fire burning in the paladin's chest, a fury born of hate.

It had to be him.

It was only five days since the Caer had struck at his parents' estate. Ten since the death of the proselytes in Lumiena Square. Fears had already been voiced that the creature would strike at the church or its supporters again, but most had expected his target to be the festival itself.

Aurelion dismounted his bike with a clattering of armour, drawing his lawkeeper from its holster as he started up the path leading to the building's doors. A cursory glance around on arrival had confirmed that he was the first to arrive on the scene. He slowed as he approached the doors, straining his ears for any sign of movement inside. But there was none - only the light percussion of the rain against the stone of the church's walls and his armour.

The screech of tires punctuated the arrival of backup, and Sylviane's feet hit the pavement before the engine of the black armored sedan had finished dying. Her sword was strapped to her back, but it was the Beretta at her hip that she reached for.

It was in hand, and the safety off before she reached the door where Aurelion was in position already. One look at his face spoke of the fury that welled within him and her own gaze was hard.

"Temperance."

It was the only word she spoke, and the only word needed. Aurelion was no proselyte, but even the best of them could waver in the face of what he had experienced only days prior.

Aurelion raised his eyes to meet Sylviane's, and nodded wordlessly. He took a deep breath, letting the fire ebb behind carefully raised walls of discipline. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "No sound inside. Either it's over, or this is an ambush."

She nodded. "I'll cover you," she told him as she gripped the door handle and prepared to pull it open so Aurelion could duck inside.

Aurelion gave a nod of comfirmation, and as Sylviane swung the door open he stepped inside, his gun raised. The scene within was one of carnage. Bodies were strewn in varying states of disembowlment across the pews, some shrivelled and bloodless whilst others still dripped crimson from open wounds. A grimace formed briefly on his face, but he pushed his disgust and horror aside as unnecessary distractions.

Sylviane was quick to follow Aurelion in as she shifted her weapon into a two-handed grip once she too stepped through the threshold at his back. Her grim expression only hardened into an unreadable facade of stone at the sight that lay before them.
 
as written by Script and Tiko

A quick scan of the room didn't turn up any obvious signs of the figure that the calls had mentioned, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still here. Aurelion advanced forwards cautiously, stepping past the body of the dead priest and down the aisle. His eyes scanned between the pews, searching for any trace of their quarry. Even the slightest disturbance in the air could hide a Caer in their misted forms. They couldn't let their guard down for even a moment.

"See anything?" Sylviane asked.

She cautiously shifted her gun back into one hand so she could kneel down. She didn't take her eyes off Aurelion or the rest of the room as her hand moved to check for signs of life in the motionless form of a young child that was substantially less mutilated than the rest of the bodies she lay among. Nothing.

"No," Aurelion answered. As he stepped forwards, he caught a sound off to his right, a whisper of a gasp. He turned quickly, initially seeing nothing until his eyes flicked down. The chest of a fallen man at the end of the pews was rising raggedly. His breathing was shallow, but there. "Someone's still alive!" he called to Sylviane, moving towards the man.

He was in his thirties, by the look of him, balding and slightly portly. At first, Aurelion assumed him to be unconscious, but as he approached the man's eyes flickered open. He stared disbelievingly up at him, opening his mouth as though to speak, but forming only a hoarse groan.

The man was splattered with blood, but as far as he could tell, it wasn't his. He didn't appear to have any open wounds, but his head was twisted at an unnatural angle. By the look of it, his neck was broken. Aurelion reached the man and crouched beside him to speak. "Can you hear me?"

The man only gasped. His eyes were red with tears.

"If you can understand me, blink once."

The man blinked.

Sweet Selene, the amount of pain he had to be in. "Okay, I need you to lie absolutely still, sir." Like he had much of a choice. "Help will be here soon."

The distant sound of sirens reached the pair, and the place would be crawling with police momentarily. She kept a wary eye out on the church while Aurelion saw to the wounded man, and fished her phone out.

She flicked her eye down only momentarily, just long enough to punch in the emergency number to get help on scene. As it rang she raised her eyes back up, watchful for movement, or sign of threat.

"This is Paladin Sylviane, at St. Caron's church, on West Evariste street," she said into the phone.

She didn't know the building number off the top of her head but how many St. Caron's churches could their be on West Evariste Street.

"We need ambulances en route. There's dozens dead on scene. It was a massacre in here. Only one survivor found so far, but there could be more," she explained.
 
as written by Script, Nemo, and Tiko

It was a matter of minutes before police began to arrive at the church, and the search for survivors began in earnest. It was becoming increasingly likely that the culprit of the massacre had simply gone, as he had been gone by the time there was an organised response to his prior attacks.

Assuming it was the same creature, he mentally reminded himself. It certainly fit his profile for wantonness.

Despite this, and the influx of backup, Aurelion remained on edge. Part of him was still expecting - or perhaps wanting - a confrontation of some sort. It stung to have been so thoroughly too late. And so whilst the police moved through the aisles checking bodies, he stayed on alert, watching for any sign of trouble.

"My my. This is a mess."

The voice was young, cold, colorless. Archard Peirpont stood at the threshold, idly plucking the gloves off his hands finger-by-finger. He was dressed in his usual black trenchcoat, pale blue eyes running the mangled mosaic of bodies and limbs with a seemingly tired expression. The placid stone of his face was broken in brief intervals, nose wrinkling involuntarily at the rank of gore festering in the pews.

He stepped to the side, careful to keep out of the way of the police and paramedics that filtered in-and-out of the church.

"Much worse than I was imagining," he shook his head, 'tsk'ing. "Tragic, really." He looked up, eyes finding first Aurelion's then Sylviane's. "The murderer vanished, I suppose?"

Sylviane returned Archard's glance, expertly veiling the twinge of distaste that crossed her thoughts.

"Inquisitor," she greeted. "Only one survivor was located, and he is in no shape to offer a statement at the moment. The culprit - or culprits - had already cleared the area before myself and Aurelion reached the scene."

She left the possibility of it being more than a single murderer on the air, given the sheer level of carnage. It was like no vampire attack she had ever seen. Werewolf perhaps? Why would one of the local packs attack a church though...

She abruptly curbed her thoughts for the time being and refocused on the scene at hand. There were too many possibilities flooding into her thoughts. Until further information could be gathered and studied, she knew it would not serve to tarry on possibilities for long lest she lend herself to bias when it came to examining the evidence.

"Wanton slaughter," Aurelion stated grimly. There could be no purpose to an attack like this save to strike terror into the hearts of the people. If, indeed, there was a purpose at all, and the culprit wasn't simply insane. "I could hazard a guess at the one behind it with little trouble. The third time in as many weeks."

He scowled, looking across at Archard. Inquisitors in general were unsettling types. Archard, in particular, practically made his skin crawl just by being in the same room.

"It's not often I see an inquisitor gracing the front lines of a scene like this." He let the statement hang with the implied question, turning his attention back to observing the scene.

"It's not often a scene like this occurs in the first place, Sir Nuvellon," Archard replied, stepping around a pew and staring into the eyes of a dismembered child. "Darkness rises in Lutetia City. The Inquisition steps forward to illuminate it."

He looked up, locking eyes with Leon. "Whose handiwork would you guess this to be, good knight?" He brought his hands through his sleeves out of his jacket, his coat hanging only from his shoulders and trailing him like a cloak. His fingers met near his belt and began straightening his cuffs. "You certainly have a laundry list of active murderers and criminals to choose from."

Leon's eyes were steel as they met Archard's. "You know as well as I to whom I'm referring, Inquisitor. Unless there is a second mass murderer who has struck twice in the last two weeks, and I am grossly under-informed."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Sylvaine remarked as she knelt beside one of the dead. "This mark doesn't bear any resemblance to anything found at the previous slaughters," she noted as she pulled out a pad and started to draw a rough sketch of the crude symbol that had been carved into the man's stomach. She would have access to the crime photos later, but something about physically drawing it helped imprint it into her mind in ways a simple photograph couldn't. "As hesitant as I am to leap to conclusions without more concrete evidence, I think we may be witnessing a resurgence of vampire activity within the region. Not just one, but several."

There was a grimness to her eyes as she pocketed the pad.

"It should be simple enough to deflect the public into assuming this werewolf related until we know more," she noted.

Amoral perhaps, and likely to cause a rise in tensions with the local packs but if it got out that there were not one, but numerous vampire attacks in the past few week... it would only result in widespread panic throughout the city. No, it was better to keep their suspicions quiet for now. And truthfully she wasn't one hundred percent certain this was a vampire attack. The bodies were mangled near beyond recognition, and there was so much blood that it was hard to discern if any had been drained. The brutality of it certainly fit what they knew of the old vampire houses, but it could just as possibly be a single individual trying to keep the church running in circles chasing after specters of the past.

There were simply too many possibilities to formulate a complete picture in her mind of what was going on.

"There are killers and murderers aplenty in our glorious city, Sir Nuvellon," Archard replied, "but among those operating in the last couple months who actively target the church, I can think of only two - and only one of those two leaves carnage like this in his wake." He paused as Sylviane offered her analysis. The Inquisitor nodded. "Simple enough indeed. The carnage would certainly convince the laymen. We don't have to point to a specific pack, just give the public something to chew on until we learn more."

He looked back up at Leon. "In both of his previous massacres, our mystery killer left certain signs to identify him by," Archard continued his slow circle around the carnage, "witnesses to his atrocities. Marks in the bodies of his victims." He glanced into another pew and looked at the corpse of a woman, body pale and stiff.

"That there be a different sign is troubling. I do hope this isn't the beginning of yet another mass murderer." He stepped back. "Though, if this does turn out to be another vampire attack, I would be surprised if it turned out to be completely unconnected to our other killer. That two vampires should surface after decades of inactivity at the same time is almost certainly not a coincidence." His eyes flashed to some of the paramedics and officers who were in the building with them.

"You're right," Aurelion nodded to Sylvaine after a moment, breathing a sigh. "Those differences should be enough to give us pause in assigning blame to the suspected Caer. I shouldn't be so hasty."

The paladin ran a hand through his hair, stepping across to look down at the symbol as Sylvaine sketched it. "I think I recognise this," he pursed his lips in thought, nodding his head. "Yeah. It's an old symbol of death. Somewhere in the ballpark of four hundred years ago? I can't remember the exact context, but ... I suppose it's self explanatory, here. But either the murderer knows their history better than most, or they lived it. In that light, I'm in agreement that this could well be another vampire, even if it isn't the one behind the other attacks."

He paused, then, to turn to Archard. "I also agree there's a possibility of the two being connected. Whether that's as simple as one vampire acting so boldly being enough to inspire another, or something closer... that's less certain."

"We shall certainly see," Archard nodded, "in any case I look forward to hearing what our young survivor has to say about this evening's events, and to hear the accounts of those who fled the scene. We should have a very clear idea of what happened here shortly." He crossed back down the middle aisle of the church, stopping as his shoulder brushed with Leon's.

"I heard about your family, Sir Nuvellon. My deepest condolences," his voice quieted, "and I see you back in action not a week later. Commendable, really. The fortitude of you Monastics continues to inspire." He looked towards the parted double oakwood doors and the clean knife of light that cut through the granite floors into the pews. "I do hope this investigation offers our organization more intimacy. The Order and the Inquisition have had their differences in the past, but we are a part of the same church." His hypothermic eyes darted back to Leon's and a thin smile curved his lips. "I am sure we will find some way to be useful to one another."

"I thank you for your concern, Inquisitor," Aurelion answered with a calm nod. "It does me better to be active in the field than idle, with nothing better to do than think on..." he hesitated for a beat "...what happened, fortitude or not."

He folded his arms behind his back, trying and failing to read the intent behind Archard's words and expression. After a moment's pause, in which his brow furrowed slightly, he nodded. "Yes. I'm sure we will."
 
as written by Script

Elsewhere, and elsewhen in Luskonios...

“We just left him there. We might as well have been letting him slide into a woodchipper.” The glass of the window was cold against Valère’s forehead. Below, the lights along their driveway glowed softly in the evening darkness, lighting up the carefully manicured beds of flowers and hedges along the winding private road, and spilling in through the window to lend a faint light to their otherwise unlit bedroom. The streetlights were visible beyond their grounds too, but despite the high walls and spiked fences that separated them from the rest of the city, he had never felt less secure.

“What were we supposed to do?” Alvère muttered back from behind him. His brother had been on edge ever since they got back, but Val couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed over it. Helplessness had never agreed with Al, and he was undoubtedly just as upset over not having been able to do anything for Nathan as Val was.

“I don’t know. But we didn’t even try…” Val sighed, tightening his grip on the windowsil. “Maybe we could have talked our way out of it. The Caer didn’t seem to want to do anything violent in front of Nathan. Maybe we could have convinced Nathan to come with us, and he wouldn’t have stopped us…”

“Or he would have just killed us,” Al snapped. “Don’t be an idiot. Anything we could have done, we’d have been risking him killing us there and then. We had no choice.”

“So we just let Nathan get taken by the vampire boogeyman to save ourselves?”

“Yes- No!” He heard a groan and a creak as Al flopped backwards onto the bed. “I left him there because I wasn’t willing to risk you getting hurt, you idiot. Maybe if it had been just me… but even then, it would have been stupid to try. There was no point getting ourselves killed as well, which is what probably would have happened.”

Valère turned around, and felt a pang in his heart at the sight of Al sprawled across the king-sized bed on his back, his hands pulled up over his face and clutching at his fringe with frustration. Without saying another word, he walked over to the bed and crawled over to lie beside him, resting an arm over his chest and nuzzling into his neck. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Don’t apologise,” Al muttered through his hands. “I’m upset too. I’m selfish, and I’ll always put us first, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad that it happened.”

“That’s not selfish,” Val reached up to gently pry his one of brother’s hands away from his face and squeeze it. “I’m the same. I wouldn’t put anyone before us.”

“Not Inarin?” Though his tone made it clear he meant it as a joke, Val picked up on the edge of seriousness to the tease. He smiled.

“No. Not Inarin. You know that’s just… not a game, but not anything serious, either. He’s sweet, and I care about him, but not like that.”

Al nodded, dropping his other hand from his face and shuffling around to face him. “I think we need to hire some bodyguards or something. We’re on the radar of someone- or something, I guess, that could kill us as easy as look at us.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I don’t know who we could get that could stand up to him, though. Not in any kind of reasonable time.” Val frowned. They had enough funds to hire almost anyone on the planet, but the kind of power that would be needed to handle a Caer… tended not to be up for sale as a mercenary.

“They don’t need to…” Al murmured, looking away. “They just need to give us warning, and… get us out of there.”

Reading between the lines, it was easy to see where Al’s mind had gone. The bodyguards didn’t need to be able to stop ‘Malcolm’, just to keep him busy while they escaped. He bit his lip. Was it right, to hire someone you knew was probably going to die? As long as they didn’t lie to the guards, warned them what they were up against… it was their decision in the end, whether the money was worth it. “Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. The covers brushed against his cheek. “We should.”

“I just want you to be safe.” Al renewed eye contact with him, and Val’s heart fluttered a little at how genuinely pleading the emotion behind his gaze was.

“Us to be safe,” Val corrected, smiling. “Not just me. You’re not allowed to skip yourself. And no giving the bodyguards secret instructions to prioritise me.” Al blushed slightly, and he knew that he’d predicted his brother’s intent correctly. “I’ll make sure to tell them not to, even if you do.”

There was a knock at the door, then, and both boys sat bolt upright to turn and face it. After a moment of silence, a voice called through. “Boys? Can I come in?”

“What does dad want?” Al frowned, before shrugging with an irate sigh. “Sure,” he called.

The door swung open to admit their father. Tall and broad, with handsomely chiseled features framed by a full, expertly groomed white beard, Damien Castellane wore his age well. He raised an eyebrow at the darkness of the room. “Awfully dark in here, isn’t it? You two brooding in the dark? Getting in some practice for life as a necromancer?” He chuckled briefly, but after noting their lack of response, he stopped and his expression became more serious again.

“What do you want, dad?” Val asked. He kept his tone free of accusation or hostility, but neither was it warm.

“Allie told me that the two of you looked… shaken, when you got in. The both of you came straight up here, and haven’t come out since. I thought the two of you were planning to go back to the festival after your music practice?” Damien sighed, walking over to sit down on the far side of the bed. “I wanted to check if you were alright.”

Val turned to briefly make eye contact with Al. His brother’s expression mirrored the conflict in his own mind. The Caer had made clear that if he found out that they’d told anyone about what happened, he’d make them regret it.

The lengthy pause was enough for Damien to infer that something was amiss. He drummed his fingers on his legs and frowned. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he went on, to break the silence. “But if there’s anything that your mother or I can do to help, you know you only have to ask.”

“No,” Val shook his head. “It’s alright, it’s … better if you don’t know.” As he spoke, his mind couldn’t help but drift back to Inarin’s parents. Wealth and status were no protection against the Caer, that much was clear. Even if the Castellane family’s wealth vastly exceeded that of the Nuvellons, they were still fragile.

“I’d like to talk to great-grandfather.”

Val’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. He turned to face Al with wide eyes, disbelieving what he’d just heard. His brother was looking down at his lap, his fists clenched and expression set in a determined frown.

A glance up at their dad made it obvious he was just as surprised. Damien had sat upright and a baffled look was plastered across his face. “To… your great grandfather?”

“Yes. We need to ask him some questions.” Al looked up, looking to Val for support.

Val bit his lip. It made sense. If anyone could help them figure out what to do, it was Casimir. But gods, Val hated being in the presence of that man… if he could even still be called that. But he could deal with it for long enough for them to get some answers.

So he nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk to him, but we can’t talk about why. Not yet, anyway.”

Their father frowned. “I… will need to speak to your mother, obviously. He’s her grandfather.”

“That’s fine,” Al nodded. “But it’s important.”

Val smiled. “Thanks, Dad. For not asking us to explain too much. I promise we will, when we can.”

Damien sighed. “I know you boys won’t tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said with a small smile. “You’re as wilful as I was at your age. But I trust you to look out for each other, so if you’re both in agreement… then I’ll do what I can.” He rose to his feet, nodding. “Your mother won’t be home until late, as usual. But I’ll speak to her when she gets back. She’ll likely want to talk to you about it as well, of course, so… best get a pitch ready.”

“We will,” both boys answered in unison, smiling.

Nodding his head, their father lifted one hand in a mock salute. “Toodle-oo, then. Give me a shout if you need anything, alright?” He paused to wait until they nodded their affirmation, and only then did he stride from the room.

A heavy silence lingered for several moments after the door had closed behind him. Val looked across at his brother, who was once more staring down at his lap. “So. Great granddad, huh?”

“If anyone can tell us anything useful, or give us advice on how to protect ourselves, he can.” Al answered with a nod. “Hopefully we can talk mom into it.”

“We’ve always been able to talk her into whatever we’ve wanted before,” Val said with a faint smile. “I can’t see that changing now.”

With a soft sigh, he shuffled over to close the gap between them and rested his head on Al’s shoulder. “Things will be okay,” he said quietly. “So don’t fret too much.”

“I hope you’re right.” Al glanced sideways at him. “I kind of wish that Arien had never convinced us to host that rave. We never would have ended up in this situation.”

“Or maybe we would have,” Val shrugged. “We can’t ‘what if’, with so many different factors. I’m glad we did it, anyway. We made new friends. We don’t do that often enough.”

Al grunted noncommittally. “We got along fine without them before.”

“I know. But it’s still nice.”

After a moment, his brother nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he muttered. He didn’t sound convinced. If anything, he sounded… upset.

“Al?” Val lifted his head up to look into Alvère’s eyes. They confirmed it.

“I’m just being an idiot,” Al shook his head, laughing. “I guess I’m … still kind of scared.”

“That’s not being an idiot.” Val looped his arm through Al’s. “It’d be stupid not to be scared when we’re being threatened by something like him.”

“It’s not just that. After the other day, with the werewolf, as well. You put yourself in danger, and I-” Al bit his lip and wrapped his arms around Val tightly. “You’re too willing to risk yourself for other people. I keep worrying about losing you. I know it’s selfish, but-”

“Shh,” Val hushed him gently, drawing him down to snuggle on the bed, lying beside one another once more. “It’s not.” He pressed his forehead against Al’s, softly. “It’s not,” he repeated. “I’m sorry. I can’t promise you I won’t ever put myself in danger again, but I can promise you that I won’t do it unless I have to. I’ll be more careful. But…” he sighed. “You can’t always protect me.”

“That’s what scares me,” Al mumbled. “When I’m not around, or against something like a Caer, There’s nothing I could do to protect you.”

“I can take care of myself, Al,” Val said softly. “And I can take care of you, too. We might not be able to do anything about Malcolm right now, but we’ll be careful. We’ll stay away from him, and hire those guards. And it’ll be okay.”

Al nodded slowly. After a moment, he sighed, shuffling around to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. “Gods, I hate sounding like a simpering idiot… But I can’t stop my brain doing this. You’re right, obviously. You’re perfectly capable, maybe more than I am.”

“Maybe,” Val smiled, shuffling up against him and clasping his hand. “More like definitely am.”

“Pfft.”

“Don’t worry about things that might happen.” Val squeezed his brother’s hand. “Or things you can’t change. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

Al snickered. When Val shot him a questioning glare, he shrugged innocently. “Sorry… that was just super fucking sappy.”

Val elbowed him in the ribs, prompting a snort of laughter. “I’m trying to be supportive here, you jerk.”

“I might be a jerk, but I’m your jerk.” Al grinned down at him. “But… thanks. I’ll try. That’s the best I can offer.”

“You’d better,” Val rolled his eyes, but his irritation was short-lived as Al drew him closer into a hug. Sighing contentedly, he let the conversation lull into silence, just enjoying the moment of quiet closeness. The troubles outside their room could be forgotten, at least for now. It was a luxury he hoped would continue to last.
 
as written by Script

Later that evening

The taxi pulled up outside the wrought iron gates of the Castellane mansion, allowing Arien and Jimmy to step out into the cool night air. This part of Luskonios was a step above even most of the rest of the upper class district, lined with gated estates and manors that cut themselves firmly off from the rest of Lutetia. It was like another world altogether compared to the poorer parts of the city.

Seemingly entirely at ease despite the wealth of the neighbourhood, Arien made his way over to the gate and pressed the buzzer set into the wall just beside it. After a moment, there was a click, as someone picked up the receiver. "This is the Castellane estate, please state your name and business," a man's voice came through.

"Arien. I'm here to see the twins - they're expecting me," he answered.

"Ah, Mr. Valentine. Of course. I'll get the gate for you, and let them know you've arrived," the man replied. After a moment, there was a buzz, and the gate began to swing open to admit them.

The driveway curved around to lead off in the direction of what was presumably a garage or parking area, out of sight of the front of the house, but a footpath took them on a more direct route towards the front door. The grounds of the compound served as a buffer zone between the house and the city around it, all neatly trimmed green areas complete with artfully sculpted hedges and the occasional elegant statue. A tennis court was visible off to one side of the building, and one could only speculate at what other secrets the grounds held behind the house.

A few subtly placed CCTV cameras and the occasional patrolling security guard made it clear, however, that walls and tactfully placed foliage was not the mansion's only line of defense against uninvited guests.

It was only a short walk up to the front of the house, taking them across the ovular front parking area where guests would park when visiting. A simple but elegant water fountain sat upon an island at the center, shooting streams of water up in arcs that trickled down in a serene background ambiance. The building itself was as extravagant and large as the grounds. Three storeys tall, it stretched out wide and curved around to leave the full extent of it beyond their sight. Its architecture was relatively modern by comparison to the norm in Lutetia, having been built within the last generation to accommodate the billionaire family's tastes.

The front door lay under an arched porch, and as they approached, it was opened by a well dressed woman who looked to be somewhere in her early thirties. She smiled politely to the two young men, inclining her head. "Good evening, Master Valentine. And to you as well, sir. Please, step inside. Masters Alvère and Valère will be with you shortly."

The two were led inside, into a stunning entrance hall. The floor and walls were of pristine white, contrasting sharply with jet black streets along the marble tiles of the floor. Curved staircases led up directly to the second floor on either side of the hall, and an arched portal at the far end of the room led further into the mansion's lower floor, to what looked to be a reception room.

The woman who had greeted them led them to one side of the room, where a couch was positioned in an alcove, and indicated for them to sit. "Would you like any refreshments brought while you wait?" she inquired.

"No, I'm alright," Arien answered.
 
as written by Faithy and Script

Jimmy had a million and one questions that he wanted to ask, but each one became stuck in his throat, mostly because he didn’t want to accidentally flash his fangs in front of the cabbie. How in the world was he going to hide them the entire time while he was around Al and Cal’s family? All of his thoughts disappeared the moment they pulled up in front of a magnificent place that he once dreamt of living in when he was young and naïve. Now he knew there was a slim chance that he would live anywhere other than a crap heap, but that was reality.

“Wow…” Muttering softly, Jimmy climbed out of the car, still taking in the estate. He quickly caught back up with Arien at the gate, though his sense of awe hadn’t diminished at all. As the two moved beyond the gates, he found himself looking around, trying to take everything in at once. Sure, his father’s place was nice, but nothing like this; this place was amazing. Making sure to keep up with Arien, Jim finally calmed himself down as they reached the actual home of the twins. He shook his head, wondering if maybe they had too much money. Could someone have too much money?

“Hello, ma’am.” Jimmy managed to speak without opening his mouth very much, this ensuring that no fangs were shown. He went back to looking around as they were led first into an entrance hall. He sat down on the couch that they had been taken to, shaking his head at the offer of any refreshments.

“No thank you. This place is amazing.” His last comment was more of a whisper, but it was obvious he was in awe.

____

The woman smiled once more. "Very well then. The young masters should be with you shortly. If you decide you would like anything, you need only ask."

With that, she stepped away to a respectful distance near the arch into the next room to wait.

Arien turned to look at Jimmy, grinning. "It's pretty swanky, huh?" he agreed. "I've been here at least a half dozen times and I'm pretty sure I've still barely seen half of it."

A few minutes would pass before they were joined, but it wasn't by the twins. From the arch that led further into the house, a handsome older man clad in a lengthy smoking jacket and silken nightclothes stepped through, a book held in one hand as he walked. His hair was white but full, and his beard was similarly bushy - albeit neatly trimmed to perfection.

The man raised an eyebrow upon observing the boys. "Well, good evening, Arien," he nodded his head by way of greeting, first to Arien and then to Jimmy. "And friend."

"Good evening, Damien," Arien smiled, returning the nod and rising to shake his hand. "Forgive Jimmy - he's had an operation on his teeth today, so he can't really move his mouth that much."

"That so?" Damien chuckled. "Well, it's good to meet you anyway. I so rarely get to meet my sons' friends. Arien here is something of an exception. I'm Damien Castellane, if you hadn't already picked up on that. I'm Alvère and Valère's father." He offered Jimmy a hand to shake.

____

“Swanky is putting it lightly.” Jimmy shook his head, easily talking with Arien while no one was close enough to see the slight glint. When he heard footsteps nearing his location, he expected to see Cal and Val, but when another male appeared, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to bow or just sit there silently. Following Arien’s lead, Jimmy rose up to his feet in order to also shake Damien’s hand. He was grateful for the excuse and nodded his head towards the patriarch of the family before shaking the male’s hand.

“Hello.” He managed, barely moving his mouth as he spoke. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” It was hard, but he was able to keep his secret hidden.

____

Damien nodded, glancing at his watch. "A bit of a late hour to be dropping by, isn't it?" He paused. "At least for the both of you to."

"I've always been a bit of a night owl," Arien laughed. "I hope it's not inconvenient?"

"Not at all," Damien waved a hand, grinning. "You're teenagers, you live on a different timescale to the rest of the world."

It was then that footsteps became audible from above, as the twins appeared on the balcony overlooking the entrance hall. They were clad in their own nightclothes, under matching black silk bathrobes embroidered with their initials. "Dad?" Al raised an eyebrow, glancing between his father and their guests.

"Don't mind me," Damien smiled up at his sons. "Just making light conversation." He turned back to Arien and Jimmy. "But don't let me keep you, go on," he waved them off. "I was on my way to my study anyway."

"A pleasure as always, Damien," Arien smiled, before taking off to ascend the stairs to meet the twins.

____

Jimmy couldn’t help but agree that it was a late hour, but oddly enough he wasn’t tired. Well, he supposed it wasn’t really all that odd all things considering what had happened earlier. He fought the urge to poke at his fangs with his tongue and instead glanced up at the arrival of the twins, thankful for their distraction.

“It was nice to meet you, Damien.” Jimmy almost smiled, but didn’t quite let it lift his lips all the way up, still pretending he was hurting due to his mouth surgery. Still standing, he waved towards Val and Al before following behind Arien up to where the twins were at. He wasn’t sure if they would appreciate him tagging along, especially if they wanted to tell him something secretive.

“Hey, you two.” He wasn’t sure if they would be okay with his sudden change in his DNA, so he kept up the appearance in front of them too.

____

Both Al and Val wore uncharacteristically somber expressions, and Al nodded his head towards the door in lieu of offering a greeting to either of them. "Come on, come to our room. We'll talk there," he said quietly, so that his father wouldn't overhear.

They didn't remark on Jimmy's presence, instead leading the two straight off down the hall. They passed by a great many doors, a few serving staff and innumerable ornaments and decorative art pieces, but it wasn't too long before they reached the twins' rooms. It was Al's room that they entered.

Inside was much of a muchness to the rest of the house: extravagance and luxury. A king-sized bed dominated a large portion of the room, but several comfortable armchairs and sofas were arranged in an open space to the far side, for hosting guests. A large and modern television hung on the wall opposite the bed, and various luxuries ranging from a not-so-mini fridge to a walk-in closet the size of some double bedrooms were on hand.

Al and Val took a seat on the end of Al's bed, and Arien perched himself on the back of one of the couches to face them. "So, what's up?" he asked, frowning. "Something's happened. You're both acting like somebody's died."

They exchanged a glance.

"Close enough to it," Al answered after a moment. He seemed poised to go on, but paused, looking across at Jimmy.

"Go ahead," Arien said. "Jimmy's with us, now. He took my offer."

Without any further questioning, Al nodded and continued. "That guy from the rave was at the Academy today. The one that called himself Malcolm."

Arien's expression went from a scowl to wide-eyed. "Shit. He went after you?"

"Not us," Val's eyes were downturned. "A classmate. It was coincidence we were even there. He'd come for a boy called Nathan. You might have heard of him - the blind piano prodigy. Fourteen and already playing St. Lemeux Hall."

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Arien nodded. "So what happened?"

"We were in the hall outside the music rooms when he showed up. He had some sort of ... aura," Val shivered at the memory. "He was exuding power that felt like some sort of necromancy, but different. It stunk of death, at the very least."

"We tried to bolt, like you told us to. But he stopped us." Al added. "Mocked us. It was him that murdered Inarin's family, he told us like it was the most hilarious thing in the world." He grimaced.

"He's a Caer," Val said quietly. "Like from the skirmishes fifty years ago. You knew, didn't you?"

Arien was silent, looking down with a grimace.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Val shook his head.

"Would it have made a difference?" Arien murmured. "I warned you he was dangerous. More dangerous than anything else you've encountered. Knowing what he was wouldn't have changed anything."

____

Jimmy couldn’t help but frown, not exactly sure what to think by their appearances and actions. They most definitely weren’t their usual selves and that bothered him. Had something happened with Inarin? He fought the urge to yank out his phone and call the Proselyte. Instead he just trailed behind the trio, fingers running through his hair. When they entered one of the rooms, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. Of course it was the same as the rest of the estate. Why did he think any differently? He moved to one of the arm chairs, sitting down, trying to be as innocuous as possible. He shifted slightly beneath the gaze of Al, but it was Arien’s words that caused a slight frown. Had he run this by the twins first?

“Mhm.” He muttered more than actually speaking, not wanting to stop the twins from spilling what had happened. The night of the rave was still fairly fuzzy to him, from the time he started getting hammered and took the pill Pierette gave him until that morning when he woke up in the infirmary, but he did vaguely remember Malcom. He also remembered wanting to fight the male because there was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way. The fact that the very same male had not only shown up at the school that the twins went to, but had been the one behind the death of Inarin’s family stirred up a ton of emotions within Jimmy.

“That son of a bitch.” Jimmy clenched his fist, surprised that he was not only a Caer, but Arien knew it and allowed him into the party anyways. “You knew and let him into the rave anyways?! He killed In’s family! I knew I should’ve taken him out at the rave.” Sometimes logic didn’t reside within Jimmy’s brain and this was one of those times.v

____

Arien turned to briefly glower at Jimmy. "Do you honestly think I could have stopped him?" he retorted, shaking his head. "No, if I'd done anything other than try and defuse the arguments that happened, he would have torn us all to pieces."

He sighed. "I had no idea that he'd go after anyone. I don't know why any of you even registered on his radar."

"Well we're on it now, well and truly." Al grimaced. "He warned us that if we said a word about him to anyone, we're dead. So I think it goes without saying that you don't tell anyone, or act on us telling you." He turned to fix Jimmy with a hard stare. "I don't care if you're mad at him. If you try and go after him, you're not only killing yourself, but us too. It won't take him much to put two and two together and figure out where you got your info from."

Arien sighed. "I wish I could say there was anything I can do, but..." he scowled. "I don't think there is."

"Yeah, we figured." Al shook his head. "We just ... wanted the company, I guess. We had to tell someone, and we figured you were safest since... you already knew."

"Nathan was a good kid," Val said, quietly. "We'd been getting to know him, since we're both playing in the orchestra for the academy's production this year..."

Al squeezed his brother's hand comfortingly. "Yeah. He was."

____

“We got on his radar the minute we didn’t fall sway to his whims and wants! We…!” Jimmy clenched his fists ignoring the glower that had been shot his way from Arien. He wanted to go out and kill the male for what he had done, but knew he would never stand a chance. Sighing heavily, he relaxed back into the chair, glancing over towards Al, realizing the severity of it. Sure, it was one thing to cause his own death by his stupidity, but he wasn’t about to be the reason Al and Val died. That would crush Inarin and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Alright… alright. I get your point. I won’t go after him or mention this to anyone, I promise.” He crossed his arms against his chest, sighing heavily before poking his tongue against his fangs.

“I’m sorry that your friend is gone.” Jimmy glanced down at his lap, not even sure what else to say. He hadn’t even gotten over the loss of his father yet, but kept that thought to himself.

____

"Whatever he wants with the kid can't be good," Arien muttered, shaking his head. "But you guys are safe, at least."

"For now," Al noted. "We're hiring some new security, for all the good it will do us, but..."

"I'm going to get you guys a way to contact me easier," Arien interjected. "If he shows up again, maybe I can ... well, I might be able to do something. I don't know."

"Your confidence is inspiring." Al stated dryly.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

The twins exchanged a glance, before Al rose and made his way over, opening it a crack. "What?"

The voice from the far side was that of Damien. His tone was far more severe than it had been when he'd greeted Arien and Jimmy downstairs. "Al, I need you and your brother to come with me. There's a paladin and a police officer downstairs who want to talk to you."

On the bed, Val visibly paled.

"... now? Can't they-"

"No, they can't wait. This isn't negotiable. Your guests can wait here." Damien pushed the door open further, beckoning to Val. "Come on, both of you."

Reluctantly, Val rose and joined his brother at the door. Al sighed. "We won't be too long, hopefully..." he said, glancing back at Arien and Jimmy briefly, before the two of them followed their father out of the room and into the hall.

Arien was silent for a moment, before turning to Jimmy. "I'm going to eavesdrop. You in?"

____

Jimmy remained silent, having nothing to add, at least nothing that wouldn’t make the situation more depressing than it already was at that moment. He still didn’t really understand why things worked and couldn’t figure out why the Caer needed a blind prodigy. What could the boy do to further whatever plans the creature had? It just didn’t make sense. When the knock came, he quickly clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to give anything away, especially since it was Damien.

“…A paladin and an officer?” Jimmy muttered softly, watching as Val and Al headed downstairs, leaving him alone with Arien.

“This isn’t good…” He chewed on his bottom lip, essentially poking a hole in it before flicking his tongue across the wound. “Eavesdropping sounds good to me.” He grinned before sliding up to his feet.
 
as written by Script

Alvére's eyebrows rose briefly in recognition of Savien as he and Valére descended the stairs behind their father, before his expression returned to a stoic frown.

"Please, take a seat," Damien offered to Savien and Colette, gesturing to one of the couches. The twins sat opposite scarcely inches apart, Alvére crossing his arms and Valére leaning against the armrest, with his eyes turned slightly to one side. Damien himself remained standing, taking a position beside the couch where his sons sat. He seemed content to allow Savien and Colette to speak freely without his intervention, but showed no intent to depart.

When Savien asked his question, the twins didn't so much as look at each other before answering practically in unison.

"We don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't know what you mean."

Colette inwardly sighed, though her outward expression remained unchanged. So, that was how they were going to play it? Of course it couldn't have been easy. "We have security footage of you," she stated flatly, failing to mention that they hadn't technically caught them on tape with this man. "There's no use in denying it. You're not in any trouble. But any information you can provide us could lead to us finding Nathan before anything happens to him."

At those words, Valére's grip on the armrest tightened, just a fraction. It was a minor gesture, but one that the Inspector's trained eyes took note of. So it wasn't a case of callous disregard for their classmate's wellbeing, then.

There was a pause, before Alvére spoke up again. "Even so, we'd never seen him before. That's what we meant by not knowing what you're talking about." An obvious backtrack, but Colette had to give the kid credit. He made it sound believable. "He barely talked to us, then our driver got there, so we left."

____

Above, Arien halted out of sight around the corner. His hearing was sufficient to pick up the conversation without having to move out onto the balcony and risk being spotted, and he recognised the paladin's voice well enough as the one that had questioned him before.

Clearly, he was on Nox's trail.

So he was a dead man walking, for all intents and purposes.
 
as written by Faithy

Following behind Arien, Jimmy stayed behind him, knowing that not being seen was the task of the day. What surprised him however was the ability to hear most of what was being said downstairs. Brow arching, he couldn’t help but smirk, liking his choice more and more as time ticked by, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d have this good of hearing as a werewolf. Shaking his head, not really regretting his choice because becoming furry wasn’t a cheerful thought. Returning his attention to the situation at hand, he frowned at the mention of the Caer.

Why would Savien deliberately go after someone like Malcom unless he didn’t know just what the male was. The urge to tell the Paladin was intense, mostly because of his mindset of honor and all that church nonsense, but then he’d have to explain not only how he knew, but how his injuries were healing at a rapid rate. No, that didn’t sound like a fun time to him, plus it could get Val and Al killed and he didn’t want that either. Frowning, he just remained where he was at, hoping to get more details before he made a decision
 
as written by Ronin

Sitting was always a bit awkward in full plate, but Savien managed. Dismay took him as the boys outright denied seeing Malcolm, but he took a bit of relief as they backtracked. It was a start, at least.

"What did he say?" Savien asked, "spare no detail. Every word is valuable."

He was almost certain they were lying, unless he'd misjudged the entire case and Malcolm had nothing to do with it. All of the proselytes' reports placed the twins at the rave, and Alvére had confessed to seeing the Caer personally during the Arien interview. Hopefully their story would fall apart under scrutiny and Savien could salvage the truth. He mused about separating them and doing individual interviews, but decided against it. These were witnesses, not suspects. He needed to be sympathetic ... or at least try to.
 
as written by Script

"... just, a greeting, and ... asking us which room had the piano in it." Alvére answered. "To which I said, most of them have pianos, obviously. Then Nathan poked his head out of one of the rooms and greeted him. They seemed to know each other, so we figured it was fine to go when our driver called. He called himself Dorian, and said he'd made some sort of offer. Probably something to do with Nathan's music. That's it."

He picked his words carefully, being sure to avoid anything that indicated that they knew he was anything more than a random - and human - stranger.

Colette said nothing in response to that, waiting on Savien. By what he'd said at the Academy, the twins had met this 'Dorian' before, and so their story of having never seen him before hardly rang true. But she didn't have the information necessary to push that issue, and so she left it in the paladin's hands.

It was notable that the one twin - god only knew she wasn't sure which one - was doing all the talking. The better liar, maybe?
 
as written by Ronin

Nothing that Alvére said seemed like an outright falsehood, but it was clear enough he was withholding information. He was obviously the better speaker between the two of them, though the loudest talker was also the most prone to making error...

How to approach this? He could grill them - get a bit aggressive, start growling. No, that wouldn't work. These were spoiled aristocrats, not frightened street thugs. Too much power on their end. He could play the nice guy and try to get on their side, but that required a degree of charisma, a talent in which Savien sorely lacked.

Conscience. Why did he feel like the boys had consciences? Was it the report he'd read about them defending Inarin at the Aurellae? Was it the genuine concern they tried to hide when Colette had told them about Nathan? Something in Savien's gut told him that these boys, privileged as they were, actually gave a damn about the harm Malcolm was causing. He decided to roll with it.

He focused on Valére, resting his hands on his knees.

"Valére," he said, "look at me." He waited until he had eye contact. "We got descriptions. We know what he looks like." His brows knit. "You need to tell me, Val. I need to know it's him. People are dying, good people, and they'll keep dying as long as he keeps them from working together. As long as he keeps them afraid." A glance at Alvére. The message wasn't just for Val. "Nathan. Inarin. Celeste. Jimmy. They're in trouble if he stays at large. You need to help them." A slow nod. "You need to work with me."
 
as written by Script and Ronin

Valére looked up when he was directly addressed, his gaze cool despite his discomfort. Despite the neutral mask, his hazel eyes held regret. Colette could feel it. Regret, sadness, but most of all ... fear. They were both afraid to speak the truth.

There was a long silence, in which neither twin spoke. In the end, it wasn't they that broke it, but their father.

"I'm not sure what Al has said that makes you think he's holding anything back," Damien stated, frowning. It was clear that the Castellane patriarch was the most in the dark of all assembled. Whatever had transpired, the twins had told him nothing of it. "I don't-"

He was interrupted as Val finally found his words. "You already know, don't you? What purpose does this conversation even serve, if you already know?" He clenched his fists, his tone one of subdued anger. "Confirmation? Some kind of desperate hope that we'd provide an alternative explanation? It doesn't matter what we tell you. To him it's going to look like we told all, regardless of what we say, which makes us as good as dead."

His stare had become a cold glare. "So congratulations. You've probably killed us both by coming here."

____

"You think he needs a reason?" Savien replied faster than he intended. He regretted the quip, but its truth should have been evident. If Malcolm was dangling safety in front of them on a string, he was toying with them. The Caer would kill them or spare them if he pleased.

Unless the Order could help it, of course.

"If he said anything to you that might hint at where he's hiding or who he's striking against next, I need to know," Savien continued, "but at this point, I'd like to offer your family the protection of the Monastic Order." He looked at Damien. "I'm sure you're already picking up on everything, but your family is in danger. A supernatural murderer has taken an interest in your boys. If you're willing, I can arrange for the church to safeguard your home and family to the best of its ability. If he moves against you, we'll be there." How effective they would be, he didn't know. In the past, the Order helped defeat the Caer by learning about them and designing weapons engineered to target their individual weaknesses. As it stood now, they knew next to nothing about Malcolm and his powers.

Still, this was the Monastic Order - the largest, most capable monster hunting organization on Issunar. They existed to destroy beasts like Malcolm. If there was anyone that had a chance of standing against the Caer unprepared, it was them.

____

The quip sent a chill down Valére's spine, though it was hardly news. No, there were no real illusions to be held about being safe from the Caer. He'd never even promised them that, just that telling anyone who he was, would get them killed. That didn't mean that not telling would keep them alive.

"You can't even keep your own people safe," Al snapped. "Why should we think you can protect us?"

"Enough, Alvére," Damien cut in. His tone was hard and authoritative, and it silenced any objection that either of the twins might have made. "I'm going to need you to explain the situation to me in full, Sir Durandet. If my family is in danger, I need to know from what."

"A Caer." Valére answered before Savien would have a chance to deflect the question, curling his fists into a ball. "Everything about him adds up to that. The cold, the power, the aura. Even what he looks like. He even confirmed it to us at the school."

Both Colette and Damien's eyes widened with shock. Few in Lutetia were alive that didn't know the name Caeruleum at least in passing. For the animancer and necromancer, they were intimate enough with the history of the skirmishes that they knew what the name meant.

After a moment, Alvére broke the silence. "We don't know anything about him other than that," he muttered. "He didn't tell us anything, just threatened us."

"There was one thing," Valére cut in, tentatively. "He said that he wasn't going after Inarin... because he was polite to him, at the rave."

"Like we can believe that," Al shook his head dismissively. "If being polite earns you a dead family, I'm glad we weren't."

Damien held up a hand again to quiet the boys. "I'm going to need to call my wife, Sir Durandet. We'll make our own security arrangements, but I won't turn away the offer of your order's protection on top of that."

____

Savien froze as the boys announced the monster's identity. Malcolm must have told them, or someone else who knew. Perhaps even more alarming was the genuine fear with which Colette and Damien acknowledged the claim. You know shit's hitting the fan when 'it was the boogeyman' is a logical and viable explanation.

"You know very little about this case, Valére," he warned him, "his identity is far from confirmed. Don't play with that name." It wasn't an outright denial, of course, but at least he wasn't feeding their fears.

"I'll talk to the council, Mr. Castellane. Hopefully we can provide your family with information about this killer." He rose. "Thank you for your time. Unless the inspector has any questions, I think we're done here."

____

"I know enough to believe him when he told us." Valére snapped back.

"See that you do," Damien stated, a pensive frown upon his face. "Evangeline will not be patient with any suspicion that we are not receiving all the information we require, and neither will I."

Colette simply nodded her head, as she too rose. "I've no further questions. But I assure you, sir, we will do all we can to keep your family safe."

"Then you will be departing," Damien nodded, waving a hand to produce a servant seemingly out of the woodwork. "Please, show Sir Durandet and Inspector Lavoie to the door."
 
as written by Script

When the paladin and the inspector had departed, the twins moved to rise and retreat back to their room, but Damien halted them with a look.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" He demanded, scowling. "How long have you known you were in danger from this creature?"

"Not long at all," Alvére hurriedly answered. "Until today, we thought he was just a random creep who'd shown up to our party, and we'd never see him again."

"And we didn't tell you earlier because..." Valére hesitated. "We thought if we kept quiet, then..."

Damien sighed. "No, it's alright. You were afraid. But all this about a Caer... it's more likely an imitator of some sort, no?"

They exchanged a glance. "I don't think so," Val answered, shaking his head. "But it's not impossible, I guess. I could barely even move, though, with him just ... I don't even know what he was doing. It wasn't like any necromancy I've studied. It was like he just exuded fear."

"If he's a poser he's a damn good one, dad. I think he's the real deal." Al grimaced.

Damien frowned, shaking his head. "I trust your judgement, boys. But it's hard to believe. In any case, whatever he actually is, he's dangerous. Go and get some rest, I'm going to call your mother and start arranging for some extra security."

The twins nodded, getting to their feet and starting for the stairs. Halfway there, though, Al paused and turned around. "Um... Dad?"

Damien looked up from his phone, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Thanks."

Their father blinked, before smiling. "Of course. And you can talk to me any time, you boys know that."

Al nodded, and Val offered a smile in return. Then they both swept up the stairs and rejoined Arien and Jimmy in the hall.

"Let's just ... go to bed," Val murmured as they were making the way back down the hall. "We can get a room for you if you want, Jimmy. Or you can just stay in one of our rooms."
 
as written by Faithy and Script

In truth, the reality of what was probably going to happen to pretty much everyone he knew, including those he held dear to his heart was a bleak one. He was sure that Arien wasn’t strong enough to defeat the Caer and he sure the hell wasn’t. They couldn’t run and hide because something told Jimmy that the bastard was good at hide and seek. What options did they have? Trusting the Order to protect them? Could they even stop him? Jimmy doubted it and that made his gut tense up, a lot. When Val and Al appeared back upstairs, he rubbed his arms with a very somber expression across his face. They were all so screwed.

“…I don’t want to be alone. I … eh, that is, I should protect you guys… my duty and all.” Wait, his duty? Technically he was still a Proselyte because they hadn’t tossed him out on his butt yet, but he didn’t really believe in duty… not in that sense… not anymore.

____

Val smiled faintly. "Thanks, Jimmy, but..." he hesitated.

Al cut in. "We do. Nothing against you guys. But we need to have some time, after that."

"Me and Jim'll go to your room, Val, and I'll start helping him get his glamouring and other stuff down." Arien said, putting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "You guys get some rest, and talk what you need to talk out... or anything else. We'll be just next door."

They soon reached the hallway where the twins' rooms were located. Val gestured to the other door to the one they'd entered the first time. "In there. Just don't mess with my books or anything."

"Night, guys." Al said, and the two of them disappeared into his room.

Val's room was much the same as Al's, albeit with more bookcases. As the door swung shut behind them, Arien flopped down onto the bed and sighed. "Well, that was something." he said, running a hand through his hair. "So the church know. That's going to end well, I'm sure."

____

“Understood.” Jimmy smiled a little bit before sliding his fingers through his hair, not even sure if it was worth doing all the glamouring stuff. It seemed so pointless with a Caer roaming around the area threatening to kill them all. He kept his thoughts to himself and just moved into the room, looking around before slumping down on the couch, releasing a very deep sigh.

“This is just all kinds of wrong. The church can’t even begin to deal with him and a lot more people are going to die. Savien is right… all of our friends are in danger and I can’t just sit back and let him kill them.” Arien clenched his fists against his eyes, his gaze shifting towards the window briefly. “Why now, Arien? Why is he even back?”

____

Arien looked away, grimacing. "I don't know," he muttered. "But he is, and there's nothing we can do about it. Not without getting ourselves killed in the process."

It was a lie, of course. He knew why the Caer had come out of hiding. He knew that it was Sanina who had pushed him to it, after all this time.

"All we can do is keep our friends as safe as possible. Out of his way."

____

“That is… no! I’m not going to just sit around while he systematically picks us off one at a time! Had something been done at the Rave, then maybe In’s family would still be alive. Maybe that Noah kid would be busy playing the piano, and maybe Al and Val wouldn’t be afraid of being slaughtered. There has to be something we can do!” Jimmy shook his head, curling up on the couch, trying to keep from freaking out.

“…I’m scared, Arien. Not just for me, but for everyone.” Jimmy was torn between just curling up on the couch or sliding into bed in order to snuggle up against Arien, but for the moment, he remained where he was at.

____

"Good!" Arien exclaimed, closing his eyes and scrunching his hair up in his fists. "We should be afraid. That's survival instincts kicking in. Because there's nothing we can do to stop him. Even if every person in that rave had simultaneously decided to try and stop him, all that would've been achieved is every single person there dying."

He sighed, letting his hands flop back. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. I don't know any secrets about him, any tricks that could help. All we can do is stay off of his radar, out of his warpath, and wait for the people who actually know what the fuck they're doing to deal with him."

____

“I know… I also remember trying to fight him. So, I really don’t expect to last long. Well, then again, I am pretty low on the totem pole and I don’t really have any family left to torture…” Shaking his head, Jimmy didn’t know what he expected Arien to say. Did he really think the vampire had all the secrets of the Caer family? No, but he definitely had hoped so. Did anyone even know how to deal with him?

“Alright… you’ve got a point. Teach me this glamour stuff. I probably should get back to the monastery before I’m missed.”

If anyone even misses me.
 
as written by Emperor Jester and Krysis

A public library was hardly an inconspicuous place to meet for business, but when a lonely librarian is slipped an extra fifty percent to rent out a conference room, along with some subtle hypnotism, wheels tended to get greased quite easily. Still, it made him uneasy. Being out with daylight was one thing, but more than half the city was probably hunting him. At least, the half that mattered. And so much was on the line, right now, this week, making the risks of being caught or recognized in public all the greater. Still, some things were worth it. Like home. And family. And today concerned both. He couldn't keep his Mates locked in cheap apartments forever. He couldn't stay in the safe house forever. A new manor had to be built. A new stronghold for the new Imperium...It was a necessity.

The conference room would be well lit when his three guests arrived, with curtains drawn. The overly early morning sky had done its best to hide Sol's Light from his skin, and it had done its job well, but Nox would take any chances. A large table sat in the center of the modest room, with enough chairs for more than double the participants the Caer Lord expected, along with a pitcher of water, and a bucket of ice. A similar bucket sat close to its brother, housing similar ice, though with an accompanying bottle of high priced bubbly, for celebration. If things went well.

Today he was dressed in his absolute best. Hair was well groomed, the best it had been in days, freshly washed and oiled. His clothes were hard pressed, helping accentuate his already incredibly sharp features. He smelled of fine cologne, and dressed in blues so dark they almost appeared black, with only his skin and tie giving off any sort of color contrast, a brilliant white like freshly driven snow. He hoped the brothers would be willing to listen to his request before anything else was said. The last job was botched, by no fault of his own, and he deeply regretted it. The Hogans were under his protection now, so failing them had wounded his pride more than he would ever admit, even to himself. Still. He'd told his dear Pierette to warn them of his mood as of late, and had instructed her to warn her brothers of it as well.

He'd only hope they'd listen. Above all else, they had to listen. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his persona in check if they angered him. These were the thoughts on his mind as he waited for a knock on the heavy wooden doors.

____

The slender woman, no longer starvation skinny as she had been mere weeks before, had indeed rousted her brother from his home. Robert was easy to convince, though he had barely taken two hours of rest before Pierette was knocking on his door at dawn.

The problem laid with Remy, as usual. This time, there was no hangover. No grouchy morning answer on his phone. They even broke into his apartment and found it empty, clean, and freshly painted. None of these were good signs. Neither was having to explain to the landlord about how they got in (the locks had been changed too) and why. It was only Robert's calm demeanor and natural leadership that got the siblings out of that vat of hot water, instead of ending up in jail themselves.

So while Robert was washing up and getting into a nice suit, 'Rette finally thought to call Charlene, and not just Remy's cellphone. As she squirmed into the egg-plant purple dress that clung to her fresh curves and made her almost look elegant, even with the short mane of blue-and-pink locks, Pierette learned about the drunken brawl the night before, and Remy's pain-killer addled state.

Grim-faced with the news, Robert and Perilous finally made it to the library, mere minutes late. Pier slipped into the meeting room first, hoping to blunt the temper of who she knew waited there. The door was barely shut behind her before she blurted out, "Beloved, I have sad news.".

____

A glance over his shoulder, wide eyed and harsh in nature, blue eyes swirling with mixed emotions of aggravation and concern. It was hard to tell which one was winning out, until a heavy sigh escaped from between thin, pursed lips. "I had hoped your first words to me would've been more...optimistic."

The Caer would turn his eyes back away from her, staring once more to the obstructed windows. A dismissive wave of his hand, and another sigh before continuing. "Go on. Tell me what you have to say."

____

Pierette suddenly grinned and moved to Nox's side, her eyes twinkling like she could hardly keep from laughing. "Remy picked a fight with a couple of proselytes. He's in the hospital, but has agreed to follow Robert's lead in following your requests."

Then she forced her face to seriousness and glanced to the door. "It is very sad news. They tore the ligaments in his shoulder and broke his collarbone. He is lucky it is not his dominant hand that is so impaired, so he can do some work."

____

"Well, at least he got the wounds fighting a foe who deserved it. I appreciate his efforts all the same, in that case. I'll write a check to cover his medical bills, since he got hurt attacking my enemies, even if he didn't know he was doing it." A grin of his own now formed, the first time he'd shown his Pier in quite a while, followed by a rather brief bout of laughter. A different sort of laughter, one without any malice behind it. A laugh that was nothing besides genuine, a rare thing for him, but one that was becoming more and more common as...he found a family again.

"It is unfortunate though. His demeanor makes me rather...amused. In a good way. I am glad you do not share too much of a resemblance with that particular brother in regards to how you act. Feel free to assure him that him not being here will not effect his employment, and that I hope he gets better." A gentle hand would place itself upon her cheek, familiar and cold. "And tell Robert to come inside already. We are all friends here, and besides, hearing him pace is getting rather tiring on these poor old ears."

____

Pierette grinned up at Nox and reached up to kiss his cheek, thankfully not leaving a smear of her faint lavender lipstick on the paleness of his skin. She whispered there, "Charlene threatened to sue the proselytes, so to avoid publicity, the Church is covering his bills. But I'll pass the sentiment along."

Then she hurried off to let Robert into the room, glancing over her shoulder to grin at Nox yet again. She knew that a running female sometimes got his attention in ways that were not appropriate for the company of a brother, and taunting him that way was just too much fun to pass up. Besides, she wasn't terribly fast in the glittering platform boots that had buckles up to her knees.

"Come in, Robert!" She called out, even before she reached the door, doing her best to school her expression to worried seriousness as the knob turned.

The eldest brother let himself into the room, giving the stylish pair a quizzical look, uncomfortable in his navy blue, and rather cheap, suit. "Everything alright?" He asked, as if he could do a thing about it even if the answer was 'no'.

____

"Ah. Welcome, Robert. Please, make yourself comfortable. And while the news is unfortunate, it is not without a silver lining. Please, come, sit down. Have some water." Nox's voice sounded almost strained, stressed. It had been so long since he had held his love in his arms. Almost four days. Too long. So long that the mere kiss and the dance away from his side had been enough to almost set him on edge. Keeping his eyes from shining when they so badly wanted to was...difficult. Keeping himself from sinking his fangs into her was almost impossible. But many things that others thought were impossible, the Caer Patriarch made real.

"I think you are aware of the complications surrounding the manor rebuild. It is unfortunate that the lesser and darker elements of the city had to hold conflict there. Its now, more or less, under the control of the Order until their investigation is over, while still legally in my project's name. So things have been stalled. I'm very tired of dealing with these things, and knowing how slow the Church likes to move, I won't get the house back for years, maybe even decades. I want to get out of the city until I can start the project again. I'm not here asking you and your brother to do another public work's project. I'm asking you to build me a home I can have for when the city and its troubling ways get too burdensome and aggravating for me. A place I can escape to, if you will."

A pause, and then a glance to Pierrette.

"A place where your sister and I can both escape."

____

Robert nodded slowly, moving to a chair near to where Pierette chose to sit. The woman picked a seat just out of Nox's easy reach, and Robert was next to her as he asked, "Do you have property already? The shape of the land should dictate the sweep of the structure, and until I know what I have to work with, I can't really give you any answers."

He pulled out a small pad of paper from his pocket, unfolding the top couple of sheets and frowning at them with a considering look. They were just sketches of the original manor, mostly for inspiration. "If you want a cottage, I'm talking bare necessities, we can knock that together pretty quickly. Later, might convert it to a servant quarters or the like, after the main house is built, but if you are looking for a getaway in the near future--"

Robert then realized he was rambling and stopped abruptly. Looking up at Nox, the man froze, even his heart shuddering a beat as he met the giant's gaze. His expression did not change beyond a slight widening of his eyes, but one could almost hear him putting rumor, myth, news, and Celeste's warnings together. Then Robert just blinked and went on like it was nothing, "Ah. How much of a hurry are you in? Less than nine months, I'm guessing."

Pierette gave a bark of laughter at the reference, then smiled happily and even blushed as one hand brushed over her still flat stomach.

____


"Yes, that would be preferred." Slowly, Nox would smile, catching a whiff of something in the air. Something pleasant, and chilled, and dark, clinging to Robert briefly. "As for land, that is already purchased. The deed and right of ownership, all that useless paperwork, I'll entrust to Pier at a later date. I want it...well, the idea is rather grand, but..."

He'd go on then, explaining his idea. A larger hours, at least two stories, built somewhat out onto a lake, a shore house. A sort of water garage constructed right into the basement itself, very few windows, at least ten bed rooms, and one large room, directly in the center of the house, with a sky light, and a panoramic view of the waters. If Robert raised in objections or wanted to voice any questions, it would be hard to get a word in edge wise. Especially about the odd specifics of the center room Nox seemed so dead set on. Every other part of the house seemed to be open for negotiations, but not that room. Not in the slightest.

"I hope I explained it accurately enough for you. If you had to guess, what do you think a rough estimate would be on this?" A pause, waiting for an answer, but the mortal might find it hard to do so. At some point, the nosferatu had begun to smile. Really smile. Wide and hungry. Almost as if he was letting a bit of his true self slip through. After all....toying with mortals was so much fun. A joy unparalleled.

The grin grew wider.

____

Robert listened in silence, though when Nox started to describe the center room, he frowned in thought. The momentary thought of what he was dealing with faded under the more practical and easily grasped specifics of what he was good at. A large structure, one with steel bones and concrete skin, was something he could design without having to consult books to refresh his memory.

When he had enough details, and Nox was only halfway through describing the central room, the papers came out again, this time with a pencil as well. He wrote, very neatly and small, along one corner the requirements. Then he started to do a rough sketch, simple block forms, showing a interior balcony around a two-story space with a round skylight above, though only question marks for the length and width of the room. He could roughly guess the height of the walls, assuming they would be standard.

Robert started to mumble near the end, adding up and guesstimating, so when Nox's final question came, he had a rough idea. The number on his lips was forgotten when he looked up though, and the man had to swallow the sudden jolt in his throat at the sight of all those teeth. "Ah. Well. It depends on how big, how fancy, and a few other factors. The skylight... Well, lots of factors there. I could do it cheaply with chicken wire and reclaimed glass, for example, and just melt it together artistically."

He failed to mention that he would ask the artist in the family to do it, not sure that he wanted fragile Liz to be wandering around this creature's field of vision. "Or, on the other end of the spectrum, we could go full blown, polarized lens with a retractable cover. Like an observatory might have. That would cost alot--"

Robert blinked finally, and looked over his notes again. "Few windows suddenly makes sense. Just enough to pass inspection, I'd guess. A panic room? No. You'll want hidden passages in the walls. I've always wanted to do that, to test some theories I have. It'll make maintenance much easier too." Sooner or later he would recall the number he had estimated and relay it, with the caveats that he was guessing at a certain size of building and assuming that there would be no delays or problems, and that the land was already cleared.
 
as written by Emperor Jester and Krysis

Robert was starting to understand. That was good. Very very good. A sideways glance would be given to his lady love before Nox would slide a small stack of papers towards the Hogan brother. There would be a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, lots of fine print, but at the end of the day, it would become very obvious very quickly what the documents were. Non-Disclosure Agreements. One for Robert, one for Remy, and a lot of copies for whatever outside help they brought in for the project.

"As I am sure you're starting to realize...I need you to keep this secret. Very secret. I hate to resort to threats of any kind, legal or physical, but this is quite important to me." Another pause to glance at Rette. The Hogans would be pulled into the fold sooner or later. All of them. And Robert seemed the most serious of the males in the family. Intelligent enough to know when to speak, and roughly what to say. He might be more useful than he first seemed, a thought not lost on the undead. "If you at all have any worries about yourself or your bloodline, please let me make one thing perfectly clear."

Nox would stand, rising to his full height, and then even more, seeming to grow right before the mortal's eyes. His presence was intoxicating, intimidating, but the voice was something soft, reassuring, calm. There wasn't even the slightest edge to it, just a gentle pressure. "There is no where safer you could place yourself, or your family, than by my side."

____

Robert gave a wry smile, then bowed his head to Nox. He gave a quick glance to Pierette, who seemed to adore this hungry being, and knew that at least one of his sisters was already under the spell of the undead. It was only a matter of time, he figured, since each of the Hogans had their own special fascination with death of some sort.

"Of course." He answered easily, though his doubts of how safe it was to be at the ice demons' side were already well rooted. He barely glanced at the paper before he started to sign. And then had to put away the pencil and get out a pen to do the job properly, which showed just how shaken he was to anyone that knew him. Using the wrong tool was truly unheard of in Robert's life.

The mistake earned an amused giggle from Perilous, and she slinked over to her lover's side. She had relaxed since it seemed that Robert was going to go along with the wishes of the Caeruleum, and one more member of her family was 'safe', as far as she was concerned.

"After we get Remy to sign, I want to get Papa to join us too." Pierette informed the males, though it was Robert that she watched more closely, confident that Nox would want as many experienced soldiers as he could lay hands on.

Robert put the pen down slowly and folded his hands on the table as he considered that proposition. "That might be difficult. You know he has a--", he interrupted himself then, making a gesture as if brushing away the original objection and turning his attention back to Nox, where he felt it belonged at the moment.

"Our father, for whom I am named, suffered an accident some years ago, and lost a portion of his leg. His plan to restore himself involves the werewolves, and he is attempting to ingratiate himself with their kind. Convincing him to abandon that plan has been an ongoing project for all of his children." Robert Jr. admitted with a tired smile. "I am sorry to say that I have sabotaged him more than once, rather than risk his death from a bite."

____

"If what he seeks is a cure to his handicap, then what I can promise him will be...well. Dear love, why don't you explain to him what I've done for you physically. Health wise, to be most specific." Once the signature had been given, Nox turned away from the table, and back towards the windows, leaving the siblings with the closest thing they could get to privacy for the next few moments.

His mind was elsewhere, as if turned on a dime. Even his darling Perilous' words would not be enough to reach him. Something was...off. As he grew more and more accustomed to his role and responsibilities as the Patriarch, new feelings and urges and thoughts kept popping up. Visions, sometimes. The sea. Fog. Rolling ice. A majestic, obsidian palace, surrounded by pines and snow and rock. Various faces, young and old, familiar yet not. Like family he'd long forgotten, or had never met.

Did Father have these glimpses, these distractions? Is that why he always seemed far off, so distant? Did he find a way to control them, filter them, hone them? Who are these people, what are these places?

None of the images seemed to stir a feeling of dread, no, quite the opposite. Each face filled him with some kind of dread hope, and the mountains and frozen streams stirred nostalgia within him, something he could not place. He had only ever known the city...Where was this palace...?

Indeed, the Caer Lord seemed oblivious to the world around him, almost completely.

____

The quiet murmuring of the two siblings seemed designed to not interfere with Nox's reverie. In truth, Pierette was a little shy with explaining the mechanics of how her lungs had been cleared.

Robert insisted on hearing for himself, and so, soon, his ear would be pressed to Pierette's back. The older male instructed his sister to inhale and exhale as deeply as she could as he slid his ear further down her back until finally, he had to admit that her breathing sounded much better.

"So what is the catch?" He asked, finally, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not permanent. Maybe, someday, when the poisons that cause the deterioration work their way out of my system, but I don't hold out hope for it." The slender woman admitting, then got a little defensive at the disapproving look from her brother. "What! If not for Nox, I might be dead already!"

"I said nothing against it, and if you are happy with--" A glance at the silent vampire lord, and then back to Pierette interrupted Robert's thoughts, "Dorian, then that is your choice. Papa would not be so sanguine. Can you imagine the horror, danger and pain, if the cure works for a while, but then his leg falls off again? This time without a doctor around to seal the wound and keep him from bleeding out?"

"Better than becoming one of those curs!" Perilous retorted angrily, the red in her face from her slip as much as her temper.

Robert blinked and tilted his head curiously, "You used to like our newest type of citizen, sister mine. You've changed in so many ways."

"I fell in love." Pier snapped back, then gave a frustrated sound at Robert's questioning smile and the hint of disbelief from the man that had known her all her life.

____

"The mutts should never have been granted citizenship. They are beasts, mongrels, and should be put on leashes and in cages, made to hunt and fight for our entertainment and benefit. Thats all dogs deserve in the end." Nox chimed in, breaking both his own silence and the siblings very minor squabbling. "Or do you sympathize with them, the ones not born into their plight but pulled into it by cruel acts of fate and crueler acts of man? Why? Their troubles are not yours. It seems a waste of time."

Nox seemed to glide across the room, so keen was his grace, before wrapping his Perilous in his arms from behind, having to kneel to do so. "If you're that worried about my cures wearing off, rest assured, they won't. The medicine clings to those it touches, never truly letting go. It weakens if you go without it for too long, but your father's condition is different than that of my lady love. It regrows fair easier than it replaces, if that makes any sense."

A cheshire grin. An ice cold breath. "Again, I assure you Robert. Your family is very safe. I happen to like your family very much. And nothing is more important to me than those I consider kin. I refuse to lose any more of it. Do you understand me? Have I made myself crystal clear?"

____

That embrace had Pierette first giving a jump like a surprised cat, and then almost purring as she leaned into Nox's bulk. Her hands settled on his arms, curled tightly, as if she could keep him close with her warm and human touch.

Robert gave a slight shrug, "We're a sturdy lot, usually. Quarrelsome too, I'm sure you noticed. I would not fear to loose any of us by accident. It is supernatural interference I am wary of, even that with the best of intentions."

Then the male gave a wry grin and turned back towards the table to gather his sketches, "While I don't mind speaking for my younger brother, no man should be comfortable making decisions for his father. Anything you want of him, you'll have to discuss in person."

Then he hesitated, his face going still with a dismaying thought that crossed his mind, "Uh. May I ask, who have you met in our family? And what opinions do you hold of them?" The warrior sister, the mad mother, and the various children all held separate notes of worry for the eldest brother, though those that had married into the Hogan clan escaped his concern for the moment.

____

"Adam. Marie. Jamie. Anna, as far as children go. I've also met you, your brother, Celeste, Elizabeth, and Charlene. It seems the only one I haven't had the pleasure of meeting at least once is your father. Or am I forgetting some one, dearest?" Nox replied, casually rattling off the list of names, returning her mimicked purr with a genuine one of his one, pupils narrowing to slits. The guise around his fangs would fade as well, giving a fully unadulterated view of his shark like jaws. His fingernails would grow into long black claws, one of which would graze his love's cheek soft enough to barely avoid drawing blood.

"Now that you seemed to have caught on, Robert, I don't feel the need to hide myself around you anymore. For your sake, I'll keep the room from getting cold, but hiding behind guises and glimmers gets old after a few centuries, let me assure you. And I have so much pride in my looks."

A second to dig into his pockets for a check book, another one leased to another name. However many aliases and false lives this vampire claimed as his own, the number seemed to be endless. "You'll have to get these ones cashed at the specific bank listed, unfortunately, but this account is much more secure, let me assure you. I'll also be leasing you and your brother, if he agrees, your own Daily Limit debit cards, so you don't always have to wait around on me for more funds. Will these two measures suffice, or should I be more generous?"

____

Robert was as pale as a ghost at the end of the list, or perhaps it was Nox's appearance that had him in such a state. He gave a brisk nod, not trusting his voice as he reached for what the vampire offered. There was only his own personal obsession that hadn't made it on that list, and considering her recent tragedies, he was not going to mention the unofficial connection to the Nuvellions.

He was also picking up the impatient looks from Pierette, so the brother would barely murmur acceptance before he cleared his throat and reasoned, "I'd rather not tell your secret to my brother. It is yours to share, when you choose. He'd not believe me anyway. So he'll sign these papers and not know anything to disclose when you meet again."

The papers would soon be gathered as Robert avoided looking at Perilous, the slender woman cuddled against Nox's side close enough that she might accidentally interfere with his pocket hunting. Her pointed looks would get more intense each time Robert even looked like he had something further to say.

____

With most of his attention now on his beloved Perilous, Nox almost missed his chance for one final warning, speaking up just when the elder Hogan brother's hand was reaching for the door. "Oh, one more thing. I'm sure you've figured out by now that....well...legal repercussions are the least of your worries if you break the agreement you just signed. I can already taste your fear, and have no wish to compound on it, but I can't exactly have folks potentially going around betraying my trust. Not without some rather extreme consequences, if you catch my drift."

A short laugh, signalling that he was finished. Once they were alone, he'd wrap his arms around his delicious love, pulling her exceptionally close. "Mmm...I have to say, I think that went rather well, wouldn't you?"
 
as written by Ottoman and glmstr

The well-practiced ritual was second nature to the paladin by now, as she was sure her armored footfalls were to the many tenants of the building, hardly noticing the walk up the flights of stairs after stowing her Destrier in the parking garage that flanked the condominiums. To her it was no different than brushing one's teeth or locking one's door - something that took time, even if one hardly remembered it. But what was otherwise a near-daily ritual clouded with thoughts of supper or being free from her plate was instead a lingering pause that only cemented the unease that the estate had left in her. She kept the blank faceplate of her helm down, despite the stifling warmth of her breath falling back onto her visage against it, lest anyone read the discomfort so plainly broadcasted on her Iverian features.

So lost was she in thought that she actually bothered to check the brass numerals upon the door, making sure that she hadn't skipped over her destination in her mind's wandering, her armored gauntlet held aloft for but a moment before sounding out a well-practiced pattern, the impression of her glove worn into the wood. With a sigh Lughadh reminded herself that it was safe here, that this sanctuary was far from the Nuvellons and the slaughter that had torn apart their beautiful home, looking to her flank, down the sparsely decorated hallway, clad in the light of the afternoon sun that slipped in through an errant window.

A palpable lack of sound responded to Aislin's knocking, nothing unusual as the thick and heavy wooden doors blocked out the majority of sound to and from each condo, to insure not privacy but peace and quiet. A soft click eventually broke the silence, and the door gingerly swung open.

A familiar face greeted the paladin, soft Lutetian features with parted blonde hair falling just below her chin. She stepped out of the way and waved Lughdadh in, closing the door behind her with a similar level of care.

When the door was shut and locked again, Roxanne finally spoke up.

"Welcome home, love."

The light from the window held the knight's gaze for as long as the silence lingered, her eyes darting back to the door as the deadbolt was unlocked, the door pulled gently ajar. Horrific as her morning's assignment might have been, as unsettling as the corpses and the grounds had proven, there was one sight in all the world that could dispel whatever worries plagued Aislin's mind, and as her eyes graced Roxanne's face she felt her own grim visage begin to melt. Plodding, weighty steps carried her across the apartment's threshold, the grace that had been drilled into the soldier's mind now gone as she sought to retire for the evening, dismissed from her duties by the master.

The paladin lingered for a moment there, just inside the apartment, allowing herself a lengthy, exhausted sigh - weary, even if she had hardly exerted herself today - fingers soon reaching to reveal her own features, the pale Iverian almost shivering at the touch of the cool, conditioned air as it graced her face. Dedicated as she was to her ideals, to her duty, no place ever had quite the same effect on her - not her old barracks, the cathedral, or even her family's home in those distant, hazy years before the Order - and nothing ever felt quite as satisfying as realizing one was home.

The straps and rivets that held together her metallic bulwark announced what was otherwise a small turn of her shoulders, the knight looking over them to the woman who so graciously put up with her deadly - and aromatic - vocation. "Thank you, darling." She murmured in reply, her spare hand, which had seated itself on the hilt of her sword since leaving her steed out of habit, fell from its perch and hung languidly at Aislin's side, taking a moment or two to rest before reaching for her lover's hand, careful of the other's delicate appendages in her gauntlet's grasp.

"How was your day?"

Roxanne's hand gripped Ash's, applying noticeably more pressure than her counterpart in order for the gauntlet-clad hand to feel something holding on to it.

"For me? Exciting. A man from one of the wineries invited me to their headquarters. Very fantastic place, really, and marvelous wines. I gave them access to one of the old Allard recipes, and we should start seeing the bottles on shelves and in restaurants within a year or two. Of course, they paid very steeply for such a thing and I get a almost half of that variety's sales in royalties, and I am quite confident they will do my name justice."

"How about yours?" Allard quickly pressed her lips to Aislin's in a brief kiss, pulling away and clapping the paladin's pauldron with her other hand. "Also you don't need to keep that armor on, there are no monsters hiding in here as far as I know," she gave a playful laugh and let go of the gauntlet.

The elder woman returned the slightest of squeezes at Roxanne's, her green gaze a hint brighter as the other shared the events of her day and their rather pleasant course. "Most excellent. I'd expect no less from you-" She barely managed before the heiress planted the kiss, almost cutting her off, though the look that she soon paid Allard spoke volumes of her day, and despite the teasing tone of her lover Aislin couldn't help but hesitate to be free of her cuirass.

"... I wouldn't so much call it exciting as dreadful." There was no real excitement involved, simply shadowing the master and providing her own input on the evidence as she saw it. Armored fists reached up under her chin, her head cocked at an odd angle for a moment or two as she picked at the strap, soon pulling it free from its catch as she undid the buckle, her own pale blonde hair soon free from both helm and arming cap. It was hardly as polished or pleasant to look at as Roxanne's, mussed from its steel prison and soiled from the midday heat, pulled tightly back across her crown.

"I don't know if they've put it on the news yet but, well..." Another sigh, not so much out of relief this time as apprehension. "... the Nuvellons are dead. To a man." There was really no other way to put it in her eyes, and even if they had not accounted for every body what she saw today - well, whatever it was that slaughtered them so, Aislin felt that only the will of God could save you from it. Given, it was sensitive information that she shared, were it that no leaks had occurred and the Monastery, much less the police, had not yet made any official press releases on the subject. but Roxanne had been privy to such details before as a trusted confidant of the weary knight, someone who she felt no harm in sharing such word with.

The helmet soon found itself in its usual spot, the arming cap inside of it, the sallet being used not unlike a bowl, in which the paladin began to deposit her many smaller personal items: her destrier's keys, silver, rosary, and whatever other superfluities rested on her belt. The gauntlets soon followed suit, tossed onto the helmet which rocked from their deposition, something Ash was eager to look away from as she kneaded at her hands, her expression distant, perturbed, as she stared at the floor, a single word lingering in her mind.

Slaughtered.

"Sweet Selene," Roxanne's eyes widened. The Nuvellons shone as one of the three 'beacon' houses who remained loyal to the Evequec church and the Monastery. While the Lacroix and Arodring clans still remained intact, this surely would be a blow to the city as a whole. "I can't believe it. Who could do such a thing by themselves?"

The noble gave a long sigh, noting to send her regards to any surviving members of the family.

"I.. I'm glad you're home safe."

Lughadh wordlessly answered Allard's question, a shake of her head accompanying her shrugging shoulders, having not seen anything quite like it in all her years in the service of the city. Bare hands fumbled at her breastplate, shedding the cuirass before any of the rest of her equipment, uncertain what to say to Roxanne, understanding that the news likely disturbed her just as much, if not more, than the sight had Aislin.

Free from the lion's share of her trappings, Lughagh managed a deep breath, a free hand coming to tug at her collar as she set the cuirass down as gently as one could. "... so am I." She eventually spoke, breaking the silence that had settled between them, "But, enough of that - we'll be hearing about it all too much soon enough." The news and the tabloids would have a field day, and already could the Iverian paladin feel the conspiracy theories coming on, though she elected to refrain from the rumors that already stirred in her own ranks.

She wouldn't bring that evil word into this house.

"What's for supper?" Ash inquired as she fiddled with what armor remained, leaning against the wall as she did, tossing the occasional piece into the seat of a chair left just for this purpose.

"Agreed," Roxanne dismissed the subject the best she could. On the subject of supper, she blushed slightly and scratched her head.

"I, uh, didn't think of anything to make until it was too late, so I had to get takeout from that Losenyu place down the street, if that's alright," the affluent woman produced two plastic trays with clear covers and disposable chopsticks. The scents of stir fry quickly spread throughout the room, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and savory without even being opened.

She pulled open a cabinet and retrieved two wine glasses, placing them by each plate of food before hurrying back into the kitchen to retrieve one of many bottles of Allard red.

That slight moment of embarrassment wasn't lost on Aislin as she continued to strip herself of her armor, smiling herself as she shook her head, doing her best to lose herself in the evening and Roxanne, sure that distancing herself from today would be far easier once she was free of her plate. "Absolutely not." She replied, her voice playful in turn, looking up from the straps she worked to lady Allard, "I can't stand Losenyu food."

Iverian wit, if there was such a thing.

In truth it was one of the paladin's far more evident vices, something she'd developed a fondness for in her younger years, delving into the foreign cuisine with gusto on the few expeditions she was allowed as a proselyte, so long accustomed to her folk's hearty, homely fare. The very moment she was free of the last of her plate - her boots - she left the various pieces behind as she eagerly stretched, liberated of the burden, making her way over to the table that the noblewoman set for them.

Once the bottle found itself on the table Ash pulled out her seat, partially unzipping the undersuit she still wore, fully intent on enjoying the air conditioning. "... forgive me if I dine before bathing?" She asked, more concerned with her own state than any perceived shortcoming on the part of her love. "I'm starving as is. Skipped breakfast."

If there was one thing that could be said for the paladins, they had iron stomachs, Ash chief among them, having long ago mastered the art of putting away a meal whilst staring at something's innards.
 
as written by Ottoman and glmstr

Allard smirked at Aislin's dry response and poured both of them a glass of the wine she held. It was quite dry as a contrast to the sweetness of the food before them, but not unbearably bitter.

"You may, as long as I get to assist you with the latter," she gave a sultry grin and began to take bites of the dish before her. While her partner would clearly have no problem finishing the large portions that Losenyu restaurants tended to supply and then some, she would likely struggle to eat more than three quarters of it, provided that the hungry paladin didn't have the rest.

"You know I can make you something in the morning if you just ask," Roxanne pulled several more noodles into her mouth. "It's the least I can do."

"Like I could ever refuse." She murmured in response, flashing her own smile at that lovely thought, the dry red brought up to her lips as she fantasized, briefly, before she dismissed such fancies. They were pointless, especially considering that such fantasies would soon be her reality, and so she snapped the fixed chopsticks apart, tucking them into her fingers. The ravenous paladin took her time to plan her assault on the meal before her, glancing up to her lover on the note of breakfast.

"I know, darling. I just don't want to wake you up when I'm being scrambled out the door." Were it she was lucky she could find a gas station or cafe along the way but, just like this morning, it didn't always work in her favor. Such conversation did little to help her appetite however, and the woman delved into the food before her, catching herself every now and again as she did her best to maintain a sense of propriety in front of her better half. Quickly she dabbed at her lips with a napkin after finishing a fight with a rather obstinate noodle, blushing herself now.

No matter how long she had been with Roxanne, no matter how close she knew they were, the common-born paladin always looked up to her lover socially. It made her glad, in some small way, that they lived this secret life, so that she couldn't embarrass the noblewoman she loved with her boorish manner. "Thank you." She managed as she returned the napkin to its place, her gratitude unspecified - certainly the meal, as well as the company, was a pleasure, but in the wake of the horror at the Nuvellon Estate, well...

She was thankful for so much more than simple noodles.

"Come on now, I don't have to hurry off anywhere in the morning," Roxanne chuckled to herself and stabbed an uncooperative piece of chicken with one of the chopsticks. She couldn't even begin to imagine the sorts of sugary and criminally unhealthy things the paladin must have been buying from the gas stations and cafes on the way to the monastery.

"Please, no, thank you. You go through so much for the sake of the rest of Lutetia, and then risk your profession just to see me. I need to show my appreciation somehow, whether through food, shelter, or a warm bed."

"Back to bed." She mused, a raised chopstick pointed in Roxanne's direction. Even if the other had no where pressing to be, it still didn't incline her to rousing the woman for something she felt was selfish - even if it meant she ate things that were truly terrible for her en route. Aislin mentally shrugged at the thought, figuring she sweated off her fair share of turnovers today.

The counter-apology took the paladin by surprise, emerald eyes looking up to the noble as several errant noodles hung from her lips, midway between the plate and her mouth. Hastily she scarfed down what had lingered, finishing that mouthful mere moments before she spoke. "... darling." She managed, quietly, "You don't owe me a thing, you know that."

Gently she pushed her hand across the table, hoping the other would take it.

"You say that, but I still don't believe you. I guess it'll take a few more years," a delicate hand reached forward rested on the one offered forward on the table. "Stubbornness is a powerful thing. After all, I'm stubborn enough to keep loving a paladin," the civilian of the pair smiled and gave the hand a gentle squeeze.

"Say, we spend all of our time together in here. The Auraella is coming soon and I plan on attending, would you like to accompany me when you're off duty?"

Without needing to speak farther, several implications were obvious. Namely, romantic activity would need to be kept to a minimum, and even then only when they were afforded a certain level of privacy.

That she was, another point that Aislin might not entirely understand but would never argue against. Many days she came home to her love in far worse shape than this - not simply soiled, stinking mess, but one wearing the blood of the city's foes, and more often than not her own as well. Worry as she might for Roxanne's safety throughout the day, Lughadh didn't want to consider how the other felt when she was away, especially with such horrid things as befell the Nuvellons going around...

There that thought was again - the sight of those cars crushed like cans, and the way the blood was splattered, it was simply-

The Iverian gave a brief, brisk shake of her head, knowing that her eyes had fallen to the table, glazed over in thought, forcing her attention back to lady Allard and the suggestion she made. "Certainly," She mused aloud before a thoughtful look of a far different caliber came over the paladin as her eyes danced to and fro, as if checking some invisible calendar, making sure she had her days straight.

"I think I have two days free during the Auraella. I'd be remiss if I didn't escort my patron on such an auspicious occasion." If nothing else she was still an imposing sight out of her armor, though there were some who would argue she was far more fetching than frightening - fortunately enough she'd already worked her way into their good graces. "It will do us good to get out and about."

Comfortable as this life was, there were moment where she missed their more scandalous years, sneaking off to steal whatever affection they could manage, doing their best to skirt the eyes of the Order. At other times it made her feel guilty but, how could love ever endanger her oath to the Order - to the city?

"Are there any events you'd particularly like to see? I can likely shift my days around, if I need to."

"Hm. I'd like to see the marksmanship and sparring tourneys, the finals of the latter. There's much speculation about them, the proselytes this year are strong contenders, but allegedly the Lacroix family is coming in force, almost everyone in the family is rumored to have entered. I think that would make an incredible show, and maybe bring some confidence to the rest of us."

A strong performance from the monastery and their allied families would instill a sense of security, albeit mild, in the minds of onlookers. The thought of the next generation of paladins being stronger and brighter than before would give much needed hope to the Lutetian people.

"Not to mention," Roxanne stood from her seat, trailing her fingers along the table and drawing behind Aislin, "an exciting event like that would surely at least enough privacy that we wouldn't need to act like such strangers, no?" Allard draped her arms over Lughdadh's shoulders, placing her own hands on the paladin's. "We may not be bold or young enough for our former antics, but I would prefer to watch the tournament from the comfort of my lover's arms."

The paladin had returned her attention to the meal, managing another couple bites as Roxanne mused on her preferred events, nodding along with her both to simply agree with her selection as well as to echo her sentiment. The Lacroix certainly were making quite the name for themselves with this latest generation - as if they needed any more fame - in more ways than one, though Aislin was far more keen on the thought of the whole thing restoring some semblance of security. One of the triumvirate that supported the church had been eradicated - quite purposefully, she was convinced - and the remaining loyalists would have to redouble their efforts, both in the face of whatever unnatural scourge had wiped the Nuvellons from this earth and the degenerate tendrils of secular society.

To see lady Allard stand recaptured Lughadh's gaze, her eyes following the noble as she rounded the table and moved behind her, depositing the cheap chopsticks on the table as Roxanne's hands sought out her own. "Surely." She echoed her love, knowing that the crowd's eyes would certainly be elsewhere, Aislin's lip finding itself bitten in shameless thought, her fingers coiling around the other's hands. "Young, yes, but bold, well..."

The knight reached back that she might lean her head on Roxanne's shoulder, the tip of her nose brushing across the other's earlobe, her voice an unnecessary whisper, "Speak for yourself, lady Allard." The woman imparted a lingering kiss there, pulling away to look properly to her 'patron'.

"I assure you I'll be better dressed, at the very least."

"Is that so? Well, my brave warrior, I guess I've underestimated you again," the 'benefactor' purred, gently tugging on the Iverian to pull her to her feet. "That sounds like a challenge dear, one that you may regret."

Once they were both standing, Roxanne spoke up again.

"But before any of that happens, you," she tapped a finger on Ash's lips, "need a shower," with that Allard began pulling the paladin towards the bathroom.

"Regret?" She asked playfully before the other bid her to stand, something she saw too with a hint of hesitation, unable to resist another small stretch as she rose from her seat. With a sigh she slipped her arm's about the other's hips, linking them behind her only to be stopped by that errant finger, looking down at it briefly before smiling.

"That I do." It spoke bounds of the other's feelings that she'd hold, and be held, by one in such a state as her. Already her hands began to move on the brief trip to the restroom, towards the sweet relief a proper shower would bring - amongst other things - already making good on her boast as she explored the other's form in ways she wouldn't dare in public. But mere inches from the door she was interrupted by a garish crackle of static, stopping Aislin in her tracks as she perked up, an errant glance paid back to the kitchen.

"... the fuck?"

A muffled voice crept up from where she had deposited her armor, and the paladin's hand slipped from her lover's bosom as she peeled away, slipping over to the armor to dig out the transponder she'd left in her helmet. An unheard voice warranted a word or two in response from Lughadh, who knelt now beside the chair she'd only so recently burdened.

"Understood. I'll be there within the hour."

With a defeated slump of her shoulders she leaned on one knee, her face downcast as her curse rang out into the apartment, despite being under her breath.

"Shit."

Roxanne giggled and purred along with Ash's traveling hands, but froze when the Iverian pulled away to reach the helmet paging for her. She clung to the door frame, watching in horror as she heard Ash's response to the call.

"What's that, hun?"

The paladin lingered there on the floor for a few more moments, unmoving, allowing the coolness of the tile to seep through the undersuit's legs, relishing that sensation for a final few seconds. Gradually she rose, the link soon held tightly in her hand, the Knight sure that the channel was closed now, looking to her armor as she spoke to the woman over her shoulder.

"Dispatch. I'm needed in one of the villages, Caranhall." The Iverian's gaze shifted back to her lover after traveling along the floor, looking up to the pristine noblewoman, "There's been another massacre."
 
as written by Script and Emperor Jester

Christopher Thibault sat alone in his family's modest dwellings. Everyone was gone. What furniture that remained outside of the young man's quarters were most likely covered in linen sheets, or plastic if the furniture was deemed replacable or not worth the effort. Servants, family, the lot of them. They'd elected to leave the city amid all the recent bloodshed and chaos, but Chris had managed to convince his mother that his studies were more important, especially now that he was so close to graduation, closer every day. Besides, at twenty-three years of age, the spindly youth with rust-red hair was more than capable of taking care of himself at this point. Still, he missed them. Most of all he missed his father, who just months before had passed away in his sleep. The late Jason Thibault had always been sickly, and prone to odd cravings, unhealthy ones, ones that had given the staff pause in the past.

It was odd, still. The previous day, the one before his passing, Dad had been complaining about the cold, how chilled the house had become...but that had been in the middle of the summer. Even now, on the eve of fall, the expansive but mostly empty house was well insulated. Now though, Chris had begun to understand. Everywhere he went, a finger of winter seemed to follow his spine. News on the attack in the Square, the first one to be specific, had only made it worse. The Nuvellon assault had redoubled the vile chill's presence. Every day now, with the first snow's approach growing closer and closer, the more powerful the sensation became. Chris was desperate for answers.

With long, boney fingers, he'd grasp the mug of brandy-laced hot chocolate beside him, nursing it softly. Pale, sickly blue eyes would glance at the crackling fire beside him, and for some reason, it would feel like bile was rising within his gullet. Warmth, light, life, the things he craved sickened the young scholar to no end, and the reason for such a reaction elluded him. The past week, he had begun to sympathize with his late father more and more. Was this what his last weeks had been like? Suffering alone, freezing, wasting away? More so to himself than to anyone else in what he presumed was his empty childhood manor, Chris would broach the question to empty air,

"What will end this...?"

As if in answer, a raven cawed outside his window. The bird flapped down to land on the outer windowsil, settling itself there to groom. It was not the first of the birds Chris had seen of late. In the past few days, he'd noticed them in unusual numbers. Perched on the wall when he left the house, in the trees during his break periods at university, and lurking in the gardens almost every evening.

Though none of them had been acting unusually, it was difficult to shake the feeling that they were watching him.

Almost imperceptibly, the shadows in the room lengthened. The fire flickered as though disturbed by a wind, causing them to dance in the shifting light.

While normally the heir to the Thibault name would've brushed off the appearance of yet another black omen, but not this night. Instead, he rose, his thin frame doing little to blot out the window the bird had elected to perch on. Eyes would narrow, fixing in on the raven, an unreasonable hatred welling within him. He wanted to scream, flail, crush the little beast. The emotions startled him, and he found himself clutching his gaunt face in his right hand.

He did not noticed the shadows begin to overtake the chamber.

He did not notice the shifting flames.

If a mirror were there to gaze upon, he'd be startled by the monster glaring back at him. His skin, while never having possesed what one might consider a healthy glow, seemed almost drawn to the bone, as white and smooth as porceline. Those grasping fingers seemed tipped in black ice, razor sharp and cruel. His jaw hung slack, mouth now a gaping maw, seeming to draw in the fading light around him. It all seemed to real to him. He could see it within his mind's eye, and a panic filled him, driving out the rage and paranoia in one fell swoop.

But it wasn't. It was a trick his mind played on himself. It had to be. A quick glace at the glass portal before him revealed that much to him. Of course. The night was merely playing tricks on him. That had been all.

Still not noticing the shadows, Christopher would turn his back to the raven and make his way back to his beverage, unaware that the transformation had been quite real, and the lie his brain had told him was the truth afterall.

Tap. Tap.

He'd hardly had the chance to take more than two steps, before the distinctive sound of something tapping on glass sounded behind him. The raven had lifted its head from its grooming and turned to face the window with unnatural purpose, pecking at the glass curiously, as though testing it.

There was another caw, and a second bird descended from the sky to join the first at the window.

Peerless blue eyes would turn the entire head of the monster to investigate the noise, a low throated growl building behind serated fangs. "Leave you fucking crows! Get off of my house!" He would shout, his voice not his own but his young mind too muddled by fel forces to realize it. Spittle would fly as a result of his rage, and his lips would cut themselves upon his new teeth, but his body would be numb to the self inflicted pain.

"What do you feathered rats want from me?!"

The birds responded to his yelling with a clamour of their own, baying their cries at the glass with a flapping of wings. In answer to their calls, yet more ravens descended. One by one they came, until the windowsil was obscured wholly by the creatures. By now their crowing had crescendoed to an ear-splitting volume. And still more flocked to the window.

The swarming conspiracy was quickly getting out of control, growing to the point of becoming a writhing mass of blackness, with one bird all-but indistinguishable from the next. They pressed against the glass with a cacophony of tapping of beaks and scratching of talons, feathers flying in all directions.

And then the window's lock gave. It slammed back on its hinges, and a storm of feathery darkness exploded into the room, washing over Christopher in a black tide. The fire was extinguished, and the lightbulb shorted out, plunging him into the dark.

As quickly as it had happened, it stopped. The last of the storm of ravens passed him by, leaving him unharmed but for a building dread in the pit of his stomach. In their wake, the low illumination of the moon and stars granted him a reprieve from the pitch black. It was as though the birds had simply faded into nothingness, for nothing stirred behind him. All was silent, but for the window creaking softly as it swung on its hinges in the wind. That was, until...

"Technically, they're ravens." A voice cut across the quiet, as a figure stepped out from the shadows behind Chris. He appeared to be similar in age to the student, though his perfectly scuplted features held an inescapable sense of timelessness that was hard to pinpoint. It was hard to make much of him out in the low light, but for his eyes: a startlingly bright crimson, masked only slightly by a low black fringe.

"Same family - Corvidae," he continued, pacing around the table between them. "Covers jackdaws, blue jays..." He trailed off. "But I suppose I shouldn't dwell on taxonomy."

The figure smiled a cold, malefic smile. "Good evening, Christopher Thibault."

He was about to unleash another torrent of hateful shrieks when the tide enveloped him, causing him to bring his arms up around his face, a shriek escaping his bleeding lips all the same. The window, unharmed by the aviens, shattered against the pitch of his wail, shards of glass falling all around him. Once his arms were lowered, the darkness remained. However, oddly enough, Chris had no problem seeing anything in the room. It was all alight, various shades of white, grey, black, and blue.

Except for the stranger. The one who had entered his home. He stood out against the dark, illuminated by...something Christopher did not understand. Nor care about. Instead of words, the student would hiss angrily, like a feline whose territory had been violated. It seemed words escaped his normally quick tongue. Did that matter though? All that mattered was the stranger. He had to be dealt with. Somehow.

The malformed human would take a step forward, body taut like a spring, ready to pounce. Who knew if the young Thibault's mind was his own anymore.

"I see," the stranger murmured, observing the student's advance with an indifferent gaze. "That far gone. There's little doubting he has your scent now. Perhaps I ought to have moved sooner."

A sigh, and a shake of his head. "No matter. You'll be beyond his reach soon enough."

He held his hand out to one side, curling his fingers to grip around what at first seemed to be nothing. But as he did, the shadows shifted and pulled together at his hand, forming themselves into a wicked blade of utter blackness, darker than the darkest night. It seemed to swallow every hint of light around it, a swirling void of nothingness even to the eyes of the monster that had once been Christopher.

"Don't worry. This won't hurt. More's the pity."

A flicker of recognition flitted across the once-human's eyes, and the growl would turn into a snarl, a hungering rumbling. The feet woud end their march forward, cowering away from the blade of shadow, as if it knew it. More steps back, pressing itself against the corner of the room, and then upwards. Climbing. Hiding in the crook of the ceiling.

Words would whisper, not from Christopher, but from the dead hearth that once held fire and light.

"...Your...efforts...are...meaningless...fae...Win ter...will not...be stopped..."

"Stopped? Maybe not." Morgalath gestured effortlessly towards the twisted creature in the corner, and tendrils of shadow crept from the dark around it, seizing at its limbs and dragging it free of its perch towards him.

He smiled, running a finger along the length of his dark blade and turning his gaze on the hearth. "But we have all of eternity to continue setting it back."

With that, he swept the sword out in an arc, aiming to decapitate Christopher in a single strike.

The creature formerly known as Christopher Thibault would let out one final cry of defiance, brilliant light filling its eyes before its head rolled effortlessly from its shoulders. The body would slump in its umbral shackles, the evil visibly flowing out of the corpse as it reverted to its human appearance. The head would take the longest to to correct itself, but even as it did, those ancient words filled the room once more.

"No...matter...When we are free...even time will freeze before us...All things...will cease..."

The whispers would bring with them a rattling of frozen chains, straining restraints, and as the final word filled the air, the fae would hear, or perhaps feel, a key turn within a lock, and shackles falling to cold, hard ground. One of thousands to be removed so far, with millions more remaining.

"We will...be free..."

And then all was silent in the Thibault mansion.

Morgalath gave no reply to the voice, releasing his grip on the sword and allowing it to fade into the shadows once more. He spared only a glance at Christopher's corpse, taking a step away from the blood pooling around the man's stump.

The body would be discovered sooner or later, when his friends became concerned with his absence from exams and the like. But the Raven Prince had little to fear from mortals. The sound of flapping wings drew his attention to the window, then, as a crow flew down to perch in the open portal. A smile found its way upon his face as he stepped towards it, lifting a hand to gently brush its feathers.

"Spread the word," he instructed it softly. "A feast for you and your brethren, courtesy of our mother."

The crow let out a cry of acknowledgement, then took to the air, calling a summoning as it flew. It wouldn't be long before the carrion birds flocked to the mansion to claim their prize. Such was their right.

"But be wary," he added as an afterthought - though the bird was long since gone. "I've little doubt our enemy will be here soon, after that little display." A smirk. "Better late than never."

And with that, his form burst into a cloud of ravens, sweeping out the window and into the night, leaving the mansion far behind. His hunt continued.
 
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